


Everything I Never Dreamed Of

by Deannie



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter always seems to want what he can't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything I Never Dreamed Of

Peter sighed deeply as he took a long pull on his beer. Relaxing on the sofa—was there anything better? 

“Hey, Pete?” 

He looked up into dark eyes, watching the way his companion’s muscles rippled under equally dark skin, unfettered by something as useless as clothing. Oh yes. There was definitely something better, he admitted to himself, watching the shirtless man smile down at him. God, he was gorgeous! Peter sat up slightly, gesturing to the couch beside him. 

“Have a seat.” 

The dark man smiled—a grin that sent an arc of power straight to Peter’s groin. He groaned slightly at the blood rush and lounged back again, deliberately spreading his legs a little wider. 

“I think I’d prefer yours,” came the husky response to his offer. 

Peter shuddered, feeling the heat rising as dark eyes devoured him. 

“I thought you already had that,” he rasped teasingly. The leftover ache was still there, still rich with the pain that came with that joy. 

Soft silk pajama bottoms slid maddeningly against Peter’s bare legs as the man kneeled before him, one dark, strong hand running gently from Peter’s chest to the waistband of his boxers. 

“That’s right, I did,” that rich voice whispered, as his lover leaned forward, kissing his way down the trail his fingers had forded. Both hands caught the waistband, sliding Peter’s boxers off and tossing them aside. 

“It took a lot out of me, Pete.” Quiet words, interspersed with sharp, lustful nibbles at his inner thighs. “I’m a little hungry.” 

Peter’s head lolled back, his eyes closing in pleasure as he felt himself get harder. “All you can eat buffet.” 

Sexy laughter shook against Peter’s thigh, causing him to hold his breath for a moment, striving to regain control. 

“You are one strange man, Peter Venkman.” 

Peter smiled down into that warm, chiseled face, his breath coming in tighter gasps as coarse tight curls brushed against the base of his cock. 

“Don’t blame me, buddy.” Another breath, more shallow, less controlled. Lips rested against the tip of his cock, and Peter longed for the tongue behind them. “You’re the one who picked me.” 

His hands dug brutally into the cushions beneath him as those lips smiled, the breath enough to make him moan. 

“Can’t figure out why,” his lover whispered, shocking him by running a rough, talented tongue up and down his shaft. “ ‘cept that you taste so _good_!” 

And Peter fell. 

His hips held down tightly, Peter’s entire world was comprised of the lips and tongue that wrapped themselves around him. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe... 

But he found, if he tried, that he could beg. 

“Please... Oh God, you’re killing me... Please. Please. _Please_!” 

Even his lover’s iron grip couldn’t hold him when Peter came, launching his hips upward in a fierce spasm of ecstasy before collapsing completely, sliding half off the couch and into his lover’s arms. 

Those strong, dark arms simply picked him up, that hard, silky body sliding back on the couch, arranging Peter’s sated limbs so that his head rested against a heart that beat as fast as his own. 

He tried to stay awake, tried to move, to return the favor... But his lover knew him too well, and those lips, still warm and flavored, kissed his lightly. 

“Go to sleep, Pete,” he whispered, a chuckle in his voice that warmed Peter’s soul. “I’ll wake you for round three.” 

* * *

“Hey, Pete!” 

Peter looked up from his keys, shocked to see Winston awake so early, working on Ecto the way he always did on Saturdays. It wasn’t that Peter was sneaking in or anything... Not really... 

“How was your night?” 

The teasing tone was easier to take than he’d thought it would be, and Peter affected a post-sex smile. “Better than I could have dreamed, Zed.” 

_And not nearly enough to satisfy._

As he headed for the second floor, Winston’s voice stopped him again, and Peter felt his over-used member harden slightly at the sound. 

“You’re getting serious with this one, huh?” 

“I guess.” Peter’s eyes closed in mute apology to his lover over on 46th street. He wasn’t serious. John might be, but... 

“You ever bringing her home to meet the fam?” 

Peter blushed in the darkness of the stairwell, catching himself in the lie he’d told them. It wasn’t any of Winston’s business, after all, whether he was screwing another guy on his off-time--God knew Winston did enough of it right here in the firehouse. His mind conjured up a vision of John. Winston’s height, Winston’s build, Winston’s everything... 

_But not Winston._

“Maybe someday, Zed,” he called back, pounding up the stairs a little too forcefully as he damned himself for another lie. “I’m not sure about this one yet.” 

_But I am damn sure I don’t need you to meet him._

* * *  
The End


End file.
